Tilly was laughing.

“What?” I asked. “It's not funny! I just want to explode someone's head. Here, help me choose, Tilly. Oncoming or outgoing traffic?”

Mickey, never much of a socialite, made his way into our circle. The kid was the youngest of us at fourteen. He liked to wear hoodies, like Tilly, and he covered his eyes with his hair. We knew him through Bailey, his big sister.

“That's weird. How does a random brick get on an overpass?” he asked.

It took the edge off my momentum, but it was worth considering. Apparently so much so that Bailey, our lovable lesbian and queen of the scene, jumped into the conversation. She must have died enough times in Doodle Jump to grow interested.

“Are you guys talking about a brick?” Bailey asked. “A literal brick.”

“Yeah, what could be more interesting than that?” I asked.

“Hold on, that brick!? That brick, right there? That's not even a brick.”

“What do—” Lily tried to ask through fits of laughter. “What?”

“That's a cinder block, blockhead.” Pete said, shoving my shoulder. “I thought you graduated highschool.”

“No shit? Well, I suppose you'd know.” I couldn't help it, the cheap-shots came so easily with Pete.

“Great. Here he goes.”

“No, I was just wondering, while we're on the subject…” My smirk must have been glorious. “When's the crew gonna wrap up that construction outside Springfield? I measured it the other day, Pete, and— Well, I don't know how to tell you this, but the traffic into the city is even slower than you.”

“Alright, Brennan, alright. You've thrown your punches. You owe me, you know, for replacing your brakes. You want a cheap-shot? How the hell does it take someone that long to notice their parking brake is on?”